As The Roses Bloom

everything I thought I knew has fallen out of view

Finals week, as some call it, is kicking my ass.

Present Day

"No," Holland replied, keeping his tone short. "I don't expect you'll be wearing that old coat to the festivities either."

Kell's expression flickered at Holland's tone, but he seemed to shore himself up—he always did, as if Holland was some challenge to master—and smoothed his already smooth lapel. The coat looked good on him. It fit as if tailored, as if being worn so much had somehow molded the sturdy fabric perfectly around the shape of Kell's shoulders and the bend of his elbow. "No, I will not. Do you already have whatever you're planning to wear?"

When they walked past the side door that led into the upstairs of the palace, where both Holland and Kell spent most of their time, Holland quickly surmised where Kell was headed: the courtyard, the center of preparations for tonight.

The scene exhausted Holland just to look at, inevitably reawakening the desire to retreat into his room in the palace and stare out the window at the sky, or lie on his back with his eyes closed. For a moment, he considered excusing himself from Kell's company to avoid it.

He opened his mouth to utter some excuse, but what came out was, "Have you switched faces with your brother while I haven't been looking?" Damn Kell. Damn Kell and the way he made Holland do all the things he didn't want to, like engage in conversation. Kell was always winning, and when Holland caught Kell's self-satisfied smirk, he could tell Kell knew it. "Since when is Kell Maresh this interested in clothing?"

Coming around the corner of the castle was like stepping into another world. While the gardens remained undisturbed—which is why Holland had retreated there when he felt that painful prickling at the back of his throat—the courtyard was awhirl with suffocating activity. People in bright uniforms bustled to and fro, clipping hedges, carrying tables between them, tablecloths, platters of food. The floor had been swept clean until there wasn't a stray leaf or speck of dirt, but it was perpetually being re-swept as workers came in and out, carrying trace amounts of dirt on the corners of their boots. There were lights strung up, and garlands, and a bar with what looked like hundreds of drinks behind the counter, all lined up perfectly in gleaming rows.

As expected, discomfort tugged at the edges of Holland's consciousness: a cold feeling in his stomach and buzzing at the base of his skull. He tightened his mouth and allowed himself, just for a moment, to look over at the other Antari beside him, surveying the workings before him with something like excitement, pleasure. The sight strengthened Holland just enough to quiet the buzzing and the cold.

Holland swallowed and looked forward again. He felt Kell's eyes on him and fought to keep his face expressionless. Perhaps his mouth tightened a little bit, but that was all.

They continued to walk along the edge of the courtyard in silence. It seemed Kell was making his way out the other end of the courtyard. Holland hoped so. Was Kell going to respond? At last, Holland had broken down and offered a piece of conversation; he'd thought that was what Kell was nagging him for.

He counted: three steps, four, five in silence.

Kell cleared his throat just as they exited the courtyard, coming out on the streets that opened out before the walls of the palace. "I was headed to Calla just now."

Oh, thought Holland. It almost seemed as if Kell had been working up his nerve. An interesting thought. The idea gave Holland some semblance of satisfaction, though he didn't think it was likely to be true.

"You're not being clever." Holland could feel his heartbeat in his palms. Hands in pockets, he curled and uncurled his fingers. "If you want to invite me, just ask."